A Hero's Sacrifice
by TayaCurragh
Summary: It would be so easy, he thought. One small step forward, then Regulus Black would exist no more. Is this the end? Or can he find another purpose in life? One-shot.


**A Hero's Sacrifice**

**A/N: This was written for the 'One Line Challenge', which I had to begin with the line 'The Water looked deep and inviting', and for the Regulus Black challenge, because he's awesome :) Please review!**

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><p>The water looked deep and inviting.<p>

_It would be so easy_, he thought. One small step forward, then everything will be gone. Regulus Black would exist no more. So simple…

There would be no more orders from the Dark Lord. No more muggles he had to torture. No more loathing looks from his brother as they passed in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. But mostly, no more putting up with himself and all of his bad decisions.

He knew he had no one else to blame. At first, he tried to blame Sirius. _You left me. After I saw what happened to you, I knew I would have to obey mother and father. You were always stronger than me, you could survive without them. I couldn't. _But he knew, really, it was nobody's fault but his own. He was the one who decided to join the Dark Lord, so he would be the one to pay for it. And he had. Now, he just wanted it to end. He couldn't stand to be himself any longer.

He was so young when he joined the ranks of the Dark Lord as a Death Eater, but at the time he thought it was the best thing to do. He agreed with Pure Blood supremacy, that they shouldn't marry muggles and that Muggle-borns were not as worthy. He agreed with this. He didn't agree with, however, the barbarity the Death Eaters took part in. Muggle torture, and the killing of whole families for no valid reason, just because they happened to be Muggles, or Muggle-borns. This, he hated. Memories flashed before him, making him feel nauseous. He just wanted it to end.

_No, _a firm voice in the back of his mind said. _You're not throwing your life away. You can achieve something with this. Don't throw that away…_

But what could he achieve? He was nothing but a Death Eater, a torturer, a murderer.

_So easy…_

He couldn't live with himself anymore. Knowing he was so close to the Dark Lord. What other option was there?

_Just one step._

He hated knowing what he had done. He hated knowing that others were making the same mistakes as him. Many were willing, but from his time in the ranks of the Death Eaters, he knew as many were unwilling, or misled, just as he was.

_You can end it…_

He raised his foot.

Then he paused, his foot in mid-air.

_That's right, _he acknowledged his thoughts. He stood up straighter. Instead of stepping forwards however, he took a few paces back. He could end it.

Not his life, but the Dark Lord's.

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><p>Regulus had just climbed into bed when his Dark Mark began tingling; he was being summoned. He faced a dilemma, should he answer the summons? He knew if he abandoned the Dark Lord visibly, then he would be dead within days, if not sooner. He wasn't scared of the death, he welcomed it, even, but now he wanted to try and bring the Dark Lord down with him.<p>

He stood up and pulled on his robes. If he went, he might find out more about the Dark Lord. He needed to regard him personally with a critical eye, watching for a weakness. He must have one; he was only human, after all. He just hoped his occlumency was still up to scratch.

He hurriedly left the house, to the end of the wards. He twisted into the air, concentrating on the feeling of his Dark Mark, which was now burning.

He found himself in a dark graveyard, amongst a dozen or so other Death Eaters. They approached the Dark Lord one at a time, kissing the hem of his robes, before returning to their place in the semi-circle around him. He concentrated on clearing his mind, and carefully avoiding the Dark Lord's gaze, he stepped forward and kissed the robes like the others had before him, pushing down the feeling of revulsion that rose up inside him.

"My friends. You are probably wondering why I have summoned you here tonight," the Dark Lord said, pacing in front of them. "You see, I require an elf. I know all of you have at least one in your households. Who would welcome such an honour?"

"No one?" He asked, fingering his wand. Regulus could feel those around him shuffling him, unwilling to give up their servants, especially as they would be unlikely to return.

"You can have mine, my Lord," Regulus said, stepping forward.

"Ah, Regulus Black," the Dark Lord said, observing him. He felt him probing at his mind, but luckily he did not intrude further. "Bring him to me instantly. As for the rest of you, I am most displeased."

"Of course, my Lord." He bowed and apparated away, just as the screams began. The Dark Lord was showing his displeasure on those who had not jumped at the opportunity.

He walked towards the house as slow as he dared, he didn't want to keep the Dark Lord waiting, but he also did not want to send Kreacher to him. He cared for the elf, but he thought that by sending Kreacher to help, he may find out some more information about the Dark Lord, hopefully something that he can utilize against him. He couldn't work out what the Dark Lord would possibly want to do with an elf.

"Kreacher," he called, approaching the basement kitchen.

"Yes, Master Regulus?" the elf asked.

"The Dark Lord requires your help," he explained.

"It is a great pleasure to serve the Dark Lord," Kreacher said, bowing.

"Kreacher," Regulus said, "you must come back. Do what the Dark Lord bids you, then you must return home, to me. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Master Regulus, I is doing so," the elf said, bowing low before disappearing with a crack like a gunshot.

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><p>Kreacher returned in the early hours of the next morning. He appeared straight into Regulus' bedroom, where he was awake, unable to sleep.<p>

"What happened, Kreacher? Where did you go?"

The elf launched into the story, shaking uncontrollably the whole time. By the end, he couldn't even stand.

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><p>Regulus spent the next few days poring over as many books as he could get his hands on, trying to work out exactly what the Dark Lord had done in the cave with Kreacher. Kreacher had already given his account, but it wasn't much to go on, and he did not want to ask again, as he seemed very badly affected. He felt another stab of revulsion at both himself and the Dark Lord for doing this to his elf.<p>

The lack of any leads disheartened him greatly. His mind travelled back to that night, in the tower, with the deep water below him. It would be so easy. It took all his strength to not return there, instead he poured everything he had into trying to bring down the Dark Lord, so others did not make the same mistakes he had.

He opened yet another book, sighing. He didn't know how long he could continue pretending to the Dark Lord that everything was fine, that he was as loyal a servant as ever. He thanked Merlin that he was a skilled occulmens, and that the Dark Lord trusted the Blacks, an achievement he should thank his cousin, Bellatrix, for. She was one of his most loyal followers.

He was about to close the book, when a line caught his attention._'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction', _His heart sped up as he read. A Horcrux? He had never heard of that term before, which was surprising considering his family's fondness for the Darks Arts as well as his own skill in the study of it. It was a term described as the most evil, and it also appeared the most elusive – this suited the Dark Lord. _This is it_, he thought. _I bet this is what the Dark Lord has hidden in the cave._

He searched the rest of the book in vain, knowing that it wouldn't mention it again. He slammed the book shut, frustrated. This was the first book in dozens that had so mentioned the word, but it had only a short sentence on it, nothing more substantial. Pushing the book away, he reached for another.

Thoughts of the tower crept into his mind, but he forced them out.

Now, he had something to go on. He would do this.

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><p>It took another week to find another book that even referenced the term 'Horcrux'. Once again, his heart raced when he found it. It appeared to be a long, hopefully detailed chapter. He felt like he was back in Hogwarts again, the proud feeling he got when he finally understood a complicated potion or managed a spell that he had been working a long time on.<p>

The feeling disappeared as he began reading, however, and was replaced by a sickening feeling in his stomach. He willed himself to keep reading the horrifically detailed instructions on exactly what a Horcrux was and how it was made.

As soon as he finished the chapter, he ran to the bathroom and violently vomited.

_How could the Dark Lord have really done this?_

The crushing reality of the Dark Lord's immortality sank in, but with it a renewed determination overcame Regulus.

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><p>"Kreacher," Regulus whispered, approaching the kitchen in the dead of night.<p>

"Yes Master Regulus?" the elf asked, looking up at him with large eyes. He hadn't been the same since he had been ordered to help the Dark Lord. He began muttering to himself, calling out at things that weren't there. He hated to see him in such a sorry state.

"I need you to take me to the cave."

"Of course, Master Regulus," the elf said, taking hold of him. He felt awful forcing Kreacher to return there. He could see the fear in his eyes when he mentioned it.

"We is here, Master."

They were standing outside a small cave. Surely this couldn't be it?

"I think this is an entrance chamber," he voiced his thoughts aloud, "but how do we gain entry?"

"The Dark Lord be cutting me," Kreacher explained. "Blood goes on that wall."

Regulus regarded the elf for a moment. He had not thought to bring any kind of blade; he had brought only his wand and a fake locket which he planned on swapping for the real one. It contained a note for the Dark Lord, explaining what he had done. He wasn't sure why exactly he added the note, he just felt compelled to do so.

Cautiously casting a light severing charm, he dripped a few drops of his blood onto the wall, careful not to let the wound come into contact with the dirty wall. As soon as the blood touched it, the wall opened, like a darker parody of the entrance to Diagon Alley. He did not feel nervous, just an overpowering determination to see this through. He didn't expect to leave the cave.

"We is needing a boat, Sir," Kreacher said, as Regulus observed the murky water. "The Dark Lord got its from here." He pulled something invisible in the air, and a boat rose from the water, as if pulled by a chain.

They climbed in, careful not to touch the water. Regulus' instinct told him it was not as calm as it seemed.

Stepping out of the boat, Regulus made his way immediately to the basin in the middle of the island, Kreacher at his heels.

"This is the potion you had to drink?"

"Yes," Kreacher shuddered.

Regulus picked up the goblet. "If I stop drinking, make me finish it all."

Kreacher looked up at him with wide eyes. "But Master…"

"That's an order."

They stood in silence for several minutes, Regulus mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He may welcome death, but pain was an entirely different matter.

"When I have finished drinking, take this locket," he passed the fake locket to Kreacher, who held it with trembling hands. "Replace the locket in the basin with the fake one. Take the real one. Make sure you return home. Don't tell anyone we were here, not even my mother. Do everything you can to destroy it. Understand?"

The elf nodded, unable to bring himself to speak, understanding the situation fully.

Regulus scooped up a gobletful and raised it to his lips. "Goodbye, Kreacher."

For a moment, there was nothing. Then the memories assaulted him. He watched as he tortured a little muggle girl, then preceded to murder her mother. The girls' screams rang in his ears. The memory changed, he was standing on a hill, at the Dark Lord's feet, clutching his left arm in pain. Another shift, and he was watching his best friend die, at the hand of an Auror.

His hands seemed to be working by themselves, putting the goblet to his lips again and again, his mind trapped in the past. Then it was gone.

A consuming thirst overwhelmed him. He could think of nothing, see nothing but the water in front of him. He bent down and scooped it up in his hands, neither seeing nor feeling the pale hands that rose up from the depths, pulling at his clothes and dragging him into the water.

The water of this lake didn't look as inviting, but he still welcomed the blackness.


End file.
